


Autopilot

by AxisMage



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Conner needs a break, Crossdressing, Dick in pretty clothing, Dick is a free soul, Fluff, Linebreaks, M/M, Office, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and a breath of fresh air, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxisMage/pseuds/AxisMage
Summary: “How do you know I work for a big company? I could be a freelance reporter for all you know.”Dick raises an eyebrow. He shakes his head. “You could, but I doubt it. Reporters don’t usually have this air around them. This whole ‘my tie chokes me a bit more every day and this week has been as fun as watching paint dry’ air.”“But I´m not wearing a tie.”“You don’t need to. I told you, it´s the air, or aura, around you. You´re bored of yourself, terribly so.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt thingie! This is for Millie, thank you for sending in the prompt and for letting me write more about these two :3 
> 
> (How did this turn into a multichapter I have no clue)
> 
> Thank you to Lorelain Michaelis for betaing this chapter. All mistakes that are left are mine and mine alone

**I’m not wearing a tie.**

 

* * *

 

 

Conner realizes he´s turned into a breathing robot a week before his trip to Gotham. The realization comes during the weekly family dinner at the main farmhouse. It comes after Ma asks him how his days have been, and the most interesting thing he can think of saying is the fact he got a new highlighter and they changed the water cooler at the main Kent offices. They´d upgraded older model to a new model that looked and worked exactly the same, the only difference being the color.

He stops talking halfway into his sentence, drops his spoon into his soup. The sound earns him immediate concerned glances from everyone at the table. Even Jon puts down his sippy cup and focuses on him. There´s silence around the table for a few seconds, then Clark´s the one who reaches out to try and touch his shoulder.

“Conner?” he asks, worried.

Conner blinks. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He tries again, then a third time. It isn’t until the fourth attempt that he can get a word out: “I´m okay.”

Ma and Lois look skeptical. Clark looks even more concerned. “I don’t think you are,” he says.

Conner swallows hard. He picks up his spoon, tries to dip it back into his soup. For some reason, he can´t even lift the utensil.

There´s sniffling, then a whine. Jon starts fidgeting in his high chair. For a moment, the attention turns to the baby.

“Looks like someone needs a change of diaper,” Lois says.

Conner pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. “I… I´ll take care of it,” he assures her, pushes his chair back in and heads for Jon, who sniffles while Conner picks him up and takes him to the living room to change.

He gives Jon his pacifier and gets to changing, feels a pang of fear when he notices his movements are robotic, automatic. The fear turns into panic as he thinks back on his day – his days, his weeks – and admits this is not the only time the water cooler has been the highlight of his days. He remembers how about a year ago they´d changed the brand of water from an industrial one to the company a couple of neighbors were starting. Then, about four months ago, they´d changed the classes from plain white coarse paper to a softer brown material. He was sure his mother had asked how his day had gone on both occasions. He had probably said a boring ‘fine’ and told her and the rest of the family about the stupid water cooler.

He tries to think of something, anything, else he remembers and found exciting, no matter how little. He is only able to recall a few scandals he´d seen unfold during office hours and the start of the football session at university. He also remembers tons and tons of homework. Nothing stands out. Nothing is memorable. He feels bored remembering, is pretty sure he was also bored when all the things happened. After all, and by the looks of it, ‘bored’ has been his whole emotional spectrum since… over a year ago? No, it wasn’t long enough.

When had he turned into a corporate zombie?

He feels disgusted when his mental research shows he´s been acting like a robot for the past three years and a half. Which meant he´d given up on pretty much everything but school and his job since then. Apart from an occasional outing with his friends and the weekly family dinners, he spends his time either at the office, in class or in his house doing homework. It has become a routine. He has been recreating the same patterns with absolutely zero variation for almost four years now.

No wonder the most exciting thing he´s come across in the past month or so is the water cooler at the office.

He feels pathetic.

He finishes with Jon, buttons up the little pajamas and settles him on his lap. He bounces the baby on his lap, smiles when Jon laughs, lets the tiny fingers grab at his nose, lets the tiny palms hit his cheeks. He knows he´s delaying, but he doesn’t feel like going back into the kitchen and facing his worried family. He knows Ma and Clark will take a look at him and ask a million questions about his wellbeing. _What´s wrong, Conner? Are you okay? You´ve gone pale. What´s on your mind?_ He doesn’t think he can answer those questions even if he wanted.

Jon drops his pacifier. Conner catches it before it can even reach his lap. He´s in the process of cleaning it and cooing at Jon so he stays entertained when Clark enters the room.

“Hey. Lois and I thought you´d run away with Jon and planned to adopt him for real this time,” he says. “You know. Like you´ve threatened to do before.”

Conner´s lips twitches. “And drag him into my boring grey life forever? Jon deserves much better,” he says. It takes him a heartbeat and Clark´s face falling to realize what he´d said.

“Did Ma say something to make you think that? You know she would never even think such a thing, much less say it,” Clark says. He sits next to him, picks up Jon when the baby reaches out for him.

Conner sighs, slumps against the back of the couch. “No, of course Ma didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Then who said it?”

“Who said what?”

“That your life was boring and grey?”

“I don’t really want to talk about this.”

“Conner.”

Conner sighs. He tips his head back and stays quiet for a few seconds. He hopes Clark will drop the issue, but him being Clark, he doesn’t. By the time he raises his head, his brother´s eyes are still boring into him.

“I had a revelation tonight,” he starts. Clark leans forward in his seat. Conner rolls his eyes. “It´s not a good one. It´s not important either.”

“If it made you leave the dinner table after just touching your soup, it must be important. There is no way you left because you didn’t like Ma´s cooking.”

They both snort as soon as Clark suggest such a horrible thing. However, the humor dies as quick as it came, and Clark goes back to expecting an answer. Conner decides it´s better to talk to Clark before Ma and Lois poke their heads around the door.

“Like I said, nothing important, I was thinking about my day, and how boring it was. How boring my past week and month and past year have been,” he admits.

Clark frowns, starts bouncing Jon on his knee. “Boring? You´ve been so busy. You´ve been staying on top of classes and doing your shifts at the company, plus attending all the meetings in my place.”

“I didn’t say my life wasn’t busy. I said my life was boring.”

Clark´s frown deepens. Conner asks, “Did you know they upgraded the water cooler outside of the lounge?”

“They did?”

“Yeah. This one isn’t white. It´s grey.”

“Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“No one did because no one considers it important or something to think about for more than two seconds.  I noticed. I also got a new highlighter today. It´s from a different brand. The ink doesn’t run as much. You know who cares for small details like those? No one except for me. You know why? Because there´s nothing more interesting going on in my life.”

Conner can almost see the lightbulb appear over Clark´s head as he understands what Conner´s point is. The enlightenment is soon buried under another wave of worry and a bit of confusion.

“Well, as I said, you´ve been too busy with school and work to—”

“I did the math before you came inside, Clark. I´ve been ‘busy’ for the past three years and then some. I can´t remember a single thing more interesting than the stupid water cooler.”

Clark´s mouth drops. “Nothing at all?”

Conner digs into his memories again. He comes up empty. He shakes his head.

Clark goes quiet. The two of them play with Jon while Clark tries to figure out what to say.

“Maybe you should take a break from work,” Clark offers after a while. His suggestion is met by a grunt.

“I mean it. Since Lois and I got married you´ve been pouring all your energy into helping and pretty much taking over the company. You´re doing this while you´re still in school. Since Jon was born, I´ve made it worse on you. I´ve left you to deal with a ton of stuff. And I must admit… I thought you liked being busy and running Kent Industries.”

“I do,” Conner says. “Or rather, I don´t hate it.” He frowns. “It´s fine. It´s for the business, so it´s not like I really mind.”

Clark gives him a flat look.

“What?”

“I could swear those are the exact same words you told me when you decided to go into business administration.”

Conner shrugs. “I didn’t hate the career back then, I don´t hate it now. It´s going to become useful later on.”

“You don’t hate the career, but do you love it? Do you even like it?”

“Like I said, I don’t mind it. There weren´t many other choices, but they would have been fine too.”

Clark groans. “You need a break so bad. You need time to figure out what is it you want for once in your life. You can´t keep going through work and school like this. From what you´ve said, you´re sort of dying on the inside. I´m going to fire you, Conner.”

“You can´t fire me. You´re too mellow to fire your own brother only because he´s pathetic,” Conner says.

“You´re not—”

“Besides, the trip to Gotham is next week.” Clark slumps, then straightens, opens his mouth to protest. Conner cuts him off before he even gets a word out. “No. Everything is planned and scheduled. You´re going to be out of town, and vacation starts for me next week. We talked about this. This needs to be done. Ma and Pa didn’t raise boys who go back on their word, Clark.”

Clark goes grim at the mention of Pa, and Conner regrets it the moment he says it. He swallows hard, places his hand on Clark´s shoulder. He´s about to apologize when Clark takes a deep breath and hugs Jon in an obvious need of reassurance.

“All right. You´ll go to Gotham, but when you come back, you´re taking a break. A vacation. That´s an order,” Clark grumbles.

“As my boss or as my brother?”

“As both.”

Conner shrugs. If that´s what Clark wants him to do, he´ll do it. A break doesn’t sound like a bad idea. It doesn’t sound like a good idea either. He won´t mind taking a break, but he won´t mind not taking a break either. He can keep working. He can find something to do if he has free time.

… He supposes this is what Clark meant when he said Conner needs to figure out what he wants. At least for once in his life.

No, wait. Now that he´s realized the problem, he knows what he wants.

He wants more excitement in his life than a horrible and simple water cooler.

 

* * *

 

 

Conner isn’t a big fan of cities. Since his first trip to Metropolis with Clark and Pa when he was eleven, he´s realized the busy, loud and extremely clogged up environment of cities aren’t for him. He´s used to small towns, wide cornfields and silent sunsets. He´s used to wide streets, a cup of coffee by the chimney at the afternoon or a chair set out in the front porch. Even the Kent offices in Smallville keep the country flavor with a wide one-story building and airy warehouses full of windows.

Metropolis wasn’t so bad, he supposes. The city seemed to be favored by the sun, and despite the horrible traffic, the endless buildings and the extreme buzz of sheer stress from the people walking down every street, the trip there hadn’t been so bad. Pa had taken them to the suburbs to meet friends. The suburbs had reminded him of the farmhouse in Kansas, and he´d made of the trip the most he could. When asked if he wanted to return to Metropolis one day, his answer had been, “I don’t see why not.”

Gotham, however, is a whole different story.

He pulls up the collar of his coat, ducks his head and continues to walk through the rain. Only two streets to his hotel left now. Around him, people in dull clothing and umbrellas rush through the equally dull streets. It´s not even five in the afternoon, yet the sky is so dark that the streetlamps provide pools of light on the weathered pavement. It´s cloudier than yesterday and the day before. It´s also colder than the last couple of days. All Conner wants to do is go home.

He snorts as soon as the thought pops into his head. Wryly, he thinks that given his behavior, mindset and overall demeanor, he should feel at home in the dark, grey and ominous Gotham City.

He dashes into his hotel building, calls out a polite greeting and receives a robotic on in return. He snorts once more before he heads for the elevator. Yeah, he really should feel like Gotham is where he belongs.

His phone is ringing by the time he crashes into his room. He pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen. He types a quick reply and enters the bathroom. He comes out not ten minutes later, freshly showered, in time to see his phone screen light up.

 He goes and turns on all the room lights before flopping down on the bed and hitting the answer button.

Clark comes into view on the screen, followed by a big blue eye way too close to the camera.

“What the— Jon, hey, Jon, give it back please,” Clark´s voice rings out.

Conner smiles, runs the towel through his hair and waits for Clark to rescue his phone from his son. He´s done toweling his hair by the time Clark sighs and manages to settle his own phone somewhere Jon can´t reach it.

“Hey,” Conner says.

Jon, from Clark´s lap, laughs and waves his little hands randomly. Clark plays with the tiny arms, smiles at the camera. “Hi, Conner. How did the meeting go?”

“It went well. Luthor wasn’t as bad as I remembered.”

“How long is he staying in Gotham?”

“He said he was only staying one more day. Then I told him I was staying here another month to oversee a good part of the construction process. He suddenly decided he was going to stay as well and oversee _me_ while I oversaw the project because, and I quote ‘you, Mr. Kent, are majoring in business and that is, by no means, an engineering or architectural degree and you are therefore not qualified to even observe on your own’.”

Clarks burst out laughing. Jon follows his father´s lead. Conner just shakes his head.

“He´s still a pain in the butt, huh?” Clark says.

“I don’t think he´ll ever stop being one, but he´s not as bad now that you´re not around.”

Clark looks hurt. Conner does laugh this time. Clark then proceeds to ask him several more questions regarding the new store they want to place in Gotham, built by Lex Corp and stocked by Kent Industries. Conner fishes out his notepad and the folder with the important documents. He reports to Clark, they get distracted by Jon from time to time, and after about an hour of conversation Conner promises to send him the actual report in a few hours.

Lois comes into frame as they´re finishing the serious conversation. She and Conner chat for a couple of minutes before she bids him goodbye and takes Jon. Conner is about to say goodbye to Clark too when his brother clears his throat and tugs at his tie. It´s pretty obvious he still has something to say.

 “Yeah?” he says.

“Do you have plans for tonight?”

Conner raises an eyebrow. “I… well, I do now. I´ll get the report done.”

“No, no. I mean, do you have plans for later tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“The hotel does offer quite a big catalogue of movies to sort through.” Clark groans. Conner frowns at him. “What do you want me to say?”

“There are several bars and clubs in Gotham were a young man like you can go and—”

“I hate bars and clubs.”

“There´s also the central park and the theatre and the museums and—”

“It´s cold. I don’t want to go outside.”

Clark frowns at him this time. Conner´s own frown deepens. “I really don’t want to go out.”

“But you should. Get to know the city, meet new people, maybe make a new friend.”

“I am more than fine with the friends I´ve got at home.”

Clark grabs the phone from where he´d put t and brings it closer to his face. He now wears the expression Lois has called ‘puppy face’. “Come on, Conner. Try it just for tonight,” he says.

“I hate bars and clubs,” Conner repeats.

“Then let´s forget about clubs, but there are a few more family-friendly bar and grills or sports bar you can visit.”

“Clark, I don’t—”

“Just this once. Give it a try. For your own good.”

Conner closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm. He does it for several minutes. When he opens his eyes, Clark is still there watching.

Conner caves.

Clark sends him a list of options a second after they disconnect the call.

 

* * *

 

 

Wally´s doesn’t seem like the best name for a bar and grill. To be honest, it´s kind of a lame name. It doesn’t sound like the most inviting and exciting place to hang out on a Friday night after having finished a tedious business report, which means Conner couldn’t have chosen a better place to go to.

He shakes his raincoat right outside the door. The moment he´s inside, a woman appears at his side and offers to take his coat. He stares at her. After she laughs and assures him she´s not going to steal it, she´s merely the coat check girl, he hands it over. She hands him a little card with a number on it and tells him to enjoy the night.

Conner nods, takes a deep breath and readies himself for the intense smell of alcohol, a bunch of drunk people laughing at nothing and feeling like a stranger.

He is faced with a pleasant surprise when the first thing he sees are strings of what he guesses are Chinese lanterns hanging from the ceiling and bathing the room in a gentle red glow. He notices the waiters and waitresses moving around in shiny and embroidered clothes he assumes are also oriental. He sees people at the tables and around the massive serving bar in the middle of the room wearing similar clothes. He glances down at his old jeans and black shirt, considers going for his rain coat and running back to his hotel. Instead, he ends up striding over to the serving bar and snatching a free stool.

It takes a moment to get used to the murmur of the many conversations going around him. He takes said moment to glance around and get a feel of the bar. It´s… it´s really big, and open.

He cranes his neck to see if the bartender is close. He sees a redheaded figure serving drinks on the other side of the bar, but he also spots another figure clad in a blue dress talking with a customer down the side he´s on. He raises his hand and waves his arm to catch her attention, but the bartender is giving him her back, so of course she doesn’t notice. He calls out an, “Excuse me? Ma´am?” that is soon lost between all the noise from his surroundings. He clears his throat, which, of course, turns out to be even more useless.

Conner sighs, then settles back on his seat. He decides he´ll patiently wait until the bartender moves closer… then finds himself sneaking a peek out of the corner of his eye every five seconds. He sees the slim figure move closer eventually, the slits in the dress baring a good dose of legs clad in black stockings as she moves. His gaze follows the line down the bartender´s thighs to her calves, then downwards to the elegant blue heels. The outfit looks—

He can almost feel Ma´s slap on the back of the head. He cuts off the thought right away. What is he doing? Is he leering? Conner knows better than to _leer_. How impolite had he just been? Better not to find out.

He closes his eyes, rubs his palm over his face. Even with all the noise around him, he gets to hear the firm click of the heels as the bartender keeps moving. He raises his free hand, hoping to get noticed this time, and then listens as the steps come to a halt almost in front of him.

“Excuse me, ma´am?” he repeats, then lowers his palms and opens his eyes. The first thing he focuses on is the deep blue and black design of the dress in front of him. The second thing that catches his attention are the long fingers resting on the bar.

“What can I get you?” a smooth voice asks. Conner´s eyes dart upwards, and he feels his mouth drop when he is met by a welcoming smile on a beautiful but clearly masculine face.

Conner´s mouth disconnects from his brain. “ _Fuck._ I´m sorry. Ma´am. I mean, sir. Or is it ma´am? Shit. Uh. Shoot. My apologies, I am so sorry. Please believe me. I didn’t want to—”

The bartender gives him a wink from his heavy outlined eyes. “Dick.”

Conner pales.

 “I mean, call me Dick, it´s my name.”

Conner snaps his mouth closed.

The bartender – Dick – leans forward, showing off the slender muscles hidden underneath the dress. Conner can´t help but stare. “I get the feeling you´re new here?”

“I—” words escape him. He keeps staring at him: the form-fitting dress, the short black hair, the vibrant blue eyes. He looks… it´s all… stunning.

“Stranger?” Dick prompts. He´s grinning.

Conner clears his throat. He tries to get his breath back. “Yes. I´m new,” he manages to say.

“It´s always glad to have new customers. What´s your name?”

“Conner. Conner Kent.”

“Welcome to Wally´s, CK. You´re here on a pretty great night. It´s theme night, and in this case, we´re also taking the opportunity to celebrate Chinese New Year. Two birds, one stone, that sort of thing.”

“That explains a great deal.”

“Theme nights aren’t usually this extra, but they´re just as fun.” Dick straightens. “What can I get you tonight?”

“I´m not very familiar with cocktails or alcohol per se. What would you suggest to start off easy?”

Dick hums, taps his fingers against his cheek. “Do you like the sweet stuff?”

Conner grimaces. Dick nods. “Let´s start off with a Tom Collins.”

Conner gives him a thumbs up. Dick turns around and starts preparing the drink. Conner does his best not to let his gaze or his attention wander.

“Here you go,” Dick says as he places the drink in front of Conner. Someone calls out Dick´s name, and Dick tells him he´ll be right back. Conner thanks him, watches him move down the bar, then starts sipping his drink.

Dick returns not two minutes later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He stops in front of Conner, who can´t help but give him a curious glance. Dick props his elbows on the bar and seems to be waiting for something.

“Yes?” Conner tries.

“Are you new to Gotham, or just new to the bar? I´ve lived her most of my life, and I know it’s quite a big city, but I get the feeling that if you lived here, I´d know you,” Dick says with a shrug.

“I´m from Kansas, visiting Gotham for a little while. It´s my first time here.”

“I knew it.” Dick lays his cheek against his upturned hand. “So, which corporation is the one overworking you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 “What?” Conner gasps.

“Maybe that was a bit too rough. Let me rephrase. Which big company do you work for, CK?”

Conner blinks. “How do you know I work for a big company? I could be a freelance reporter for all you know.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. He shakes his head. “You could, but I doubt it. Reporters don’t usually have this air around them. This whole ‘my tie chokes me a bit more every day and this week has been as fun as watching paint dry’ air.”

“But I´m not wearing a tie.”

“You don’t need to. I told you, it´s the air, or aura, around you. You´re bored of yourself, terribly so.”

The accuracy stings so much Conner winces. _As fun as watching paint dry_ , Dick said. _Bored of yourself._ Yeah, Dick has summed up his situation better than he had with the watercooler story.

“Do you get a lot of overworked corporate workers around here?” he asks.

Dick gives a satisfied yet sad smile. “We get our share. Which one do you work for?”

“Kent Industries. I´m here to arrange final details and oversee the start of our joint project with LexCorp.”

“Is it safe to assume you´re high on the chain of command, then?”

Conner shrugs. “Sort of. I still have to finish school, but I´ve been working with the company since I was around fifteen. My brother and I share most of the paperwork, corporate decisions and.”

Dick hums. “And yet you´re so bored.”.

Conner takes a deep breath. He stares at his glass. He´s already shared more information with the pretty bartender in a dress than he ought to. He´s already spoken more than he´s usually comfortable with, even if this is a brief exchange by most people people´s standards. He shouldn’t spill any more beans, and at the same time, he feels he needs to say it to someone else besides Clark.

“How many corporate and overworked people facing the beginning of an identity crisis do you get around here?” he says.

Dick doesn’t even have to think about it. “More than you´d guess.”

“People who´ve missed the past three or so years of their life and can´t remember anything but a watercooler and a highlighter. Who have absolutely no problem with doing or not doing something because they feel like their life is so dull neither option will make even the slightest of changes?” Dick opens his mouth. Conner finishes his tirade. “People who feel like they could melt into Gotham´s grey pavement without a problem because of how robotic and alien they´ve started feeling in their own grey and lifeless skin.”

Dick´s expression softens. He reaches out and places his hand on top of Conner´s. Conner keeps staring at his glass.

“Why don’t you stick around for the countdown?” Dick suggest, tone soft and comforting. “Talk to other people, have a few drinks until midnight. Stop beating yourself up for a little while. I don’t guarantee by any means that a night here will automatically make your life right and exciting and you´ll stop feeling like this, but it can be a nice break, and from the sounds of it, you need it, CK.”

 

* * *

 

 

Conner is riding the pleasant buzz of alcohol by the time midnight comes around. He accepts the beer a friend he made twenty minutes ago offers him, and he smiles at Dick when Dick hands him said beer. He makes another friend in the five minutes it takes for the conversations to cease and the people to focus on the clock. He chugs back his beer, feels relaxed enough to join in on the countdown when it starts.

Cheerful cries echo all around the room when the countdown finishes. There´s also the sound of glasses clinking against each other. A voice calls out something about food, and it isn´t long until the waiters and waitresses are passing out baskets of dumplings and trays filled with rice cakes. The conversation resumes, and a hand lands on his shoulder.

“I´d say no more drinks for you tonight, CK,” Dick says.

Conner turns and almost falls out of his stool. He lets out a snort, narrows his eyes as he tries to take in Dick´s smiling face and the plate of rice cakes he´s got in one hand. Has the lightning changed or is Dick looking… brighter than before? Are his eyes bluer? Maybe they´re not, but since Conner´s spent the past two hours or so staring into them while they chat between Dick serving drinks, he thinks he can trust his own opinion.

“I am fine,” he assures Dick.

Dick rolls his eyes, places the plate in front of him, then reaches behind him and lays a cup of steaming coffee next to the food.

Conner tries to keep the items from blurring. “Did someone order food for all the people inside the bar?”

Dick pushes the coffee closer to him. “Nah, this is all on the house. The boss has had it planned since we announced we´d be celebrating Chinese New Year here.”

“That´s… quite nice of him. It makes him sound like a good boss.”

“He is,” a new voice says. An elbow lands on Dick´s shoulder, and the other bartender, the redheaded figure who´s been on the other side of the bar, appears next to Dick, grins at Conner. “Too late to say this, but I´ll do it anyway. Welcome to Wally´s. I´m Wally.”

Conner´s hazy mind needs a moment to understand what the words mean. “Dick´s boss?”

“And best friend,” Wally adds, ignores Dick´s snort. He holds out his hand, Conner takes it, and they shake on it. “And who might you be, stranger? Dick´s been rotating back to this spot for hours and being more talkative than usual.” Wally turns to Dick. “Did you make a new friend?”

“I make friends all the time, thank you very much. CK, this is Wally West, owner and fellow bartender. Wally, this is CK.”

“Not going to give me his actual name, huh.”

“Don’t you have tables to visit and customers to talk to?” is all Dick replies.

Wally feigns looking hurt. “Ah, so this is how´s it going to be? You´re keeping him for yourself?”

“I´m not keeping anybody, and you´re married anyway. Now go back to your side”

Conner doesn’t know if the banter is common between them or not. Either way, he decides to intervene. “The place is lovely, and the food is a nice gesture,” he offers, managing to get Wally to stop smirking at Dick.

“It was the least we could do,” Wally tells him. “Customers helped us with the decoration, others brought the fireworks, and they´re spending so much money here all the time that... well, it is our way of giving back at least a little bit.”

“Do you usually celebrate Chinese New Year here?”

“My wife is half Korean, so at home we tend to call it just Lunar New Year. We don´t celebrate here at the bar, though, only with her family. However, since it fell on a perfect Friday and on theme night at that, I figured we´d run with it and celebrate it the best we could.”

Conner glances around at the decoration, the food, the clothing. He doesn´t know much, just enough to see there was some real effort put into this.

“I hope the customers appreciate it,” he says. He knows he does.

Wally puffs out his chest. “So far so good, down to our staff wearing red for luck.” Wally turns back to Dick, snorts. “ _Most_ of our staff. There were a few lose cannons here and there, particularly this person who decided to go overboard with the outfit and decided to wear blue because… what was it, Dickie? Ah yes, ‘red isn’t my color’.”

Conner lets out a short laugh, then another one when Dick elbows Wally.

Dick shakes his head. “Enough. A couple at one of the tables has been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes. Get over there.”

Wally raises his hands in surrender, throws Conner one last glance. “All right, all right. Enjoy the food, CK. Keep him safe, Dick,” he says, then slips out of the bar and heads for the tables.

“Thank you,” Conner mumbles to no one in particular. He picks up the coffee, starts sipping. A stool empties next to him halfway through his cup. Dick comes out from behind the bar and sits down on it before anyone else can even try.

Conner almost drops the cup when Dick settles down on the stool and crosses his legs. The dress slits gape. Conner gets another good eyeful of the dark stockings and the long, smooth legs.

“I don’t think you went overboard. I think you look beautiful,” he hears himself say.

Dick is taken off-guard by the sudden compliment, it shows in his face. When Conner merely ducks his head to hide his bashfulness, Dick beams. “I appreciate that so much,” he says. Conner hopes he´s not imagining how pleased Dick sounds.

“´M only telling the truth.” Conner picks up two of the little cakes. He holds one out to Dick. “Is it okay for you to sit down and eat right now?”

“Things are bound to cool down for a good ten or fifteen minutes now, so yeah, I´m good.” Dick takes the food.

Conner starts nibbling at the cake. He runs a question over in his mind, wonders how Dick would react if he ends up asking it. He´s curious, but he doesn´t want to be ruder than he was when first entering the bar. Sure, over the past couple of hours he and Dick have chatted about cocktails, boring office work and a couple of movies which Dick reviewed so Conner wouldn’t have to waste his money at the theater. What he has in mind, however, isn´t so superficial.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Dick says, pulling him away from his jumbled mind.

Conner frowns. He hesitates, sighs. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t want to be rude.”

Dick raises both eyebrows, then laughs. “Ask away,” he says.

If Dick allows it, Conner supposes it is okay to ask. “Do you cross-dress regularly?”

Dick doesn’t look the tiniest bit surprised. In fact, he now looks a bit smug. “Whenever I feel like it, which isn’t as often as you´d think. Theme nights are special because I get to hunt for unusual outfits and go that extra mile. Outside of theme nights, and when the mood strikes, I tend to keep it to simpler and less flashy clothing.”

“Pity,” Conner says, tone wistful. He can´t help but smile when Dick´s surprised laughter rings out again.

“Have you had fun tonight, CK?” Dick asks when he´s finished laughing.

Conner takes a moment to think about it so he can give an honest answer. “I´ve learned a lot tonight. I feel relaxed.” He pauses. “I´ve had fun.”

“Not enough if it took you so long to answer,” Dick says, amused.

Conner shrugs.

Dick leans back against the bar. He swings one foot back and forth. “How long are you staying?”

“About a month, maybe longer if any problem pops up.”

For the first time tonight, Dick looks… shy. He rubs the back of his neck. “Would you like me to show you around sometime? Try to get you to have some real fun?” he suggests.

Conner´s answer doesn’t come as fast as he wants it too. He needs a moment to catch his breath. “Yeah, I´d like that,” he murmurs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed my boys <3
> 
> And I guess this is my first entry for the Batfam Bingo 2019. Square: Conner Kent (obviously xD)

Dick works for Lex Luthor.

Dick is part of LexCorp.

Conner cannot believe the _nerve_. What is this? A tasteless joke? A dream? A nightmare? Conner isn’t sure. He doesn’t want to believe what he´s seeing. At the same time, he wants to hear an explanation.

His hands ball into fists. He can't tear his eyes off the reception table right outside Luthor´s office, or the man sitting behind said desk and talking to the two women who appeared to be quite lost. It’s Dick, there’s no mistaking him. The man he met at the bar last week is across the room, writing something down on a piece of paper and coming from around the desk to guide the women to the elevator.

Conner frowns. He tightens his fingers around his bag, takes a deep breath. He watches Dick bid the women goodbye with a smile before turning around.

Dick beams the moment he recognizes him. “CK!”

Conner doesn't move. Dick bounces over to him, buttoning up his bright blue suit jacket. It’s flashy, and Dick wears it with the same confidence he wore the dress.

Conner’s mouth goes dry as he remembers Dick in his pretty attire, heavy eyeliner and stylish pumps. He gives him a slow once-over, letting out the softest of sighs when he gets to the black dress shoes. No heels today.

He kicks himself internally for even thinking it in the first place. Then he kicks himself again. He’s mad at Dick.He thinks so, at least. That grin is making his resolve melt already.

Dick stops in front of him. “You’re right on time for your meeting with Mr. Luthor.”

“H-How do you know—?”

“It’s my job. I´m Mr. Luthor’s personal assistant. I got your voicemail and booked your appointment.”

Conner frowns. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Dick’s gaze acquires a mischievous tinge to it. “Well, life here in Gotham is quite expensive, and as much as I like my job at Wally’s, the money isn't enough. Plus, I like being busy,” he says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Conner doesn't think he sounds mad, though Dick’s long blink might indicate he didn’t quite manage to keep his tone neutral.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Dick says. “After you told me you were working with Mr. Luthor I thought about telling you. In the end I didn’t, because I knew I was going to see you here at the office one of these days and figured I’d tell you when I—” he stumbles over his words, shuts his mouth closed, then opens it again. “Are you upset?”

Conner prepares to burst out a ‘yes’. However, he manages to bite his tongue before he speaks. He takes a moment to think about it. Is he upset? Not exactly. More than angry…

“I feel a little betrayed,” he admits.

Dick’s face falls. He takes a deep breath, but before he can speak, the door next to the reception desk opens, and Luthor strides into view, a frown on his face.

“Grayson, have you heard from the Kent kid? He was supposed to be here—” Luthor pauses when he catches a glimpse of Conner. His frown deepens. “You’re late.”

Conner stiffens. “I was here on time.”

“No, you weren’t.” Luthor clicks his tongue. “Not that it matters. I’m already behind schedule, so come on in, will you? Grayson—”

“Push back your next appointment ten minutes or so?” Dick guesses.

Luthor gives him a nod, stomps back into his office. Dick salutes the retreating figure. The smile that was starting to form disappears as he turns back to Conner.

“I´m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says.

Conner steps forward and presses his palm against Luthor’s door to keep it from closing. “Mind if we talk about this later?”

“If you have time after your meeting maybe you’d let me buy you a coffee while we talk?”

Conner’s heartbeat _doesn’t_ speed up. “That sounds nice.”

Dick’s smile returns, albeit smaller than every other Conner has seen so far. “I’ll be waiting. Have fun in there, CK.”

As if the words ‘Luthor’ and ‘fun’ would ever make sense in the same sentence. Conner gets the feeling he´s going to fall asleep during one of Luthor’s monologues, and that he’s really going to need a coffee after the meeting is over.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't fall asleep at any point during the meeting. Granted, he doesn't remember most of what Luthor said by the time he drags his feet out of the office, but at least he´s awake. It´s more than what Clark ever accomplished whenever they had to meet up with Luthor.

Dick raises his head when the door opens. His lips twitch. Conner guesses his amusement might be due to how bored and tired he must look.

“Grayson, is my next appointment here?” Luthor asks from behind him.

“Yes, sir. She went to the bathroom, but she should be back in a couple of minutes.” Dick stands up. “She´s the last one of the day. All the files from this company are already in your office.”

Luthor eyes him. “Good.”

“Is it okay if I leave a bit earlier today?”

“I knew you were about to say something along those lines.” He waves a hand in the air dismissively. “By all means, Grayson, you can go home already.”

“Thank you.”

A feminine voice calls out Luthor’s name, and a petite figure appears in front of them seconds later. Luthor greets her, shoots Conner and Dick one last look before darting into his office.

Dick picks up his bag the moment the door is closed. “Do you still have time to grab a coffee with me or do you need to go somewhere else?” he asks.

“Will you leave early even if I say no?”

“Nah. If you don't have the time I’ll stick around a while longer and get some reports done.”

Conner wrinkles his nose. He hates doing reports. He hates the idea of Dick filling out reports. “I'm free. Where do you want to go?”

Dick looks relieved. He comes from around the desk again, heads for the elevator. “It depends. If you´re still upset with me, we’ll head to the Gotham Coffee Shop. They have a lot of fancy cakes and drinks made specially to act as nonverbal apologies. If you’re not upset with me, I’ll take you to The Grind.”

“Do they also have apology cakes?” Conner asks. They step into the elevator. Dick shrugs while punching buttons.

“No, but they have a wider variety of cakes, homemade cookies and the best hot chocolate in the whole city. It´s my favorite shop, but a very fancy apology cake might work out better if you´re still mad.”

“I see. Let’s go to The Grind.”

Dick blinks at him. “So you’re not upset with me anymore?”

“I was never upset. I told you, I felt slightly betrayed, but after having been stuck in a meeting with Luthor for almost three hours, I don't have enough energy left for much.” He shrugs. “Besides, I don't like fancy stuff.”

Dick hums. “That’s what all of you fancy and rich people say.”

“I’m not fancy, nor am I rich,” Conner tries again. This time, he's the one who sounds amused.

“You’re the son and brother of Kent Enterprise’s CEO, CK. I find it hard to believe. I like the humility, though.” Dick winks at him as they step off the elevator.

Conner’s hands don't tighten around his messenger bag.

“We’re based in Kansas, not in New York or Metropolis,” Conner tells him. His voice comes out an octave higher than he would have liked. He follows Dick out of the building, then down the street. “And we don't live in fancy penthouses or skyscrapers.”

“Don't you?”

“Ma and Pa were never much for the high city life. The cultivating fields started at our farmhouse, and the house along with the lands have only been expanding over the years.”

“So you all operate from the family house?”

“Sort of. We do have an office building. It’s also a farmhouse, so the term ‘office’ is relative.”

Dick looks thoughtful. “I'm trying to imagine people in expensive suits threading through the fields and complaining about their backs because they are so done plucking the carrots from the ground. It’s a funny image.”

Conner thinks about it. “It is a funny image indeed.” He gives Dick a smile. Dick chuckles. They reach the end of the street, stop in front a rather unremarkable and grey building. Conner sees the small sign announcing the name of the place tucked behind the glass doors. It looks small and modest.

He likes the coffee shop already.

“Here we are,” Dick says. He pulls the door open, and as soon as they step inside, Conner is bathed in a warm atmosphere that smells like sugar and spices.

Conner is sitting down at the only free booth a couple of minutes later. Dick comes back from the cash register with their drinks and a bag of cookies.

Dick hands him his cup, slides onto the seat across from him.

“Thank you.” Conner takes a sip. “I have a question.”

“It’s adorable how you say that before you ask, you know?”

“I don't want to be rude.” His words are an exact echo of what he’d had said at the bar.

 “I very much doubt you could be rude to save your life.”

“Hey.”

Dick gives him a soft smile. “It’s not a complaint. Ask all you want, CK, no need to ask permission. Not now, nor later.”

Conner tries to frown. He fails. “All right. How long have you been working for Luthor?”

“As his assistant? Only about four months. Mercy, his previous assistant and right-hand woman, will be in Metropolis another eight months handling LexCorp’s business there.”

“Where were you before she left?”

“Reception. I’ve been with LexCorp for about four years now, same at the bar. Wally´s dad wouldn’t let me work the bar until I was legal of age.”

Conner tilts his head. “How… how old are you?”

“I turned twenty-five a few weeks ago. How old are you, CK?”

“Almost twenty-four.”

“And still in school, you said?”

Conner salutes Dick with his drink. “Yeah, I have a degree in business administration to finish.”

“Awesome. So you´re here on vacation, I’m assuming?”

“In a way. I have quite a bit of work to go through before the fall semester picks up and I also have to work here in Gotham with Luthor, send stuff back to my brother…”

“So you’re basically not going to catch a single break these couple of months you’re supposed to be on vacation? You’ll work and work and not give yourself even a day to have fun?” Dick summarizes.

Conner pauses. Are Dick’s words accurate? They may be. He doesn't have plans for anything outside of work and schoolwork… partly because he hadn’t planned on having free time, partly because he wouldn’t know what to do with his free time.

Dick leans forward, trails his fingertips over the back of Conner’s hand. “CK?”

Conner pulls his hand back. Dick doesn't seem to take it personally. “Sorry,” Conner mumbles.

“Don't apologize. Are you all right?”

“I am.” He frowns. “It’s… you… you brought up a good point. I hadn’t jotted down ‘free time’ in my agenda.”

“Why not?”

And there’s the hard question. He knows the answer. He’s just too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“I’ve forgotten what I used to do for fun,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve sort of blacked out the past three or four last years of my life, except for work. You told me back at the bar that I was bored with my life. You weren’t wrong.”

Dick blinks at him once, then twice. His mouth falls open, and they sit in silence for the next few heartbeats.

“Did something… happen?” Dick tries.

Several things, actually. Pa had died the year after he’d graduated from high school, with Krypto following only months after. He’d taken a sabbatical year – if it could be called sabbatical – after their deaths. He’d made sure to stay at home and working with the company. He had looked after Ma, and in certain ways, after Clark too. When he considered the two most important people in his life were back on their feet, he’d gotten into university and kept on working with the company. It had all gone downhill from there.

“A lot of stuff happened,” Conner says. He looks away. He’s not ready to share that part of his life.

Dick doesn't push. Instead, he reaches for his hand again. This time, Conner doesn't pull back. “What did you do for fun? Before… the things happened?” Dick asks.

Conner tries to remember. What did he used to do? He used to run along the maize fields with Krypto until the two of them collapsed on the ground. He used to sit on the porch and enjoy the sunsets. From time to time he brought out the old guitar Clark had gifted him when he was a kid. Conner was by no means good at playing, but he found it soothing and fun, though not as fun as working the bikes. Pa had opened up the small shed behind the farmhouse strictly for him after he brought home an old motorbike at age fourteen. Conner started working on restoring the bike. Pa took an interest to it and hung out with him. By the time Pa had died and Conner locked up the shed, there had been a restored bike and one on the works.

“I like bikes,” he tells Dick.

“Bicycles?”

“Motorbikes. I have two at home, but I haven’t ridden the restored one or worked on the incomplete one in years.”

Dick narrows his eyes. “Mechanical skills, huh?”

“Yeah. It used to be fun and easy to ride and work with bikes when I had time.”

 “You’ve colored me surprised.”

Conner shrugs. Dick lets out a hum, then perks up. “Hey, CK?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember how I said I’d show you around town if you wanted me to?”

“Of course.”

Dick grins. “How about we tour Gotham this Friday, after you’re done with your fancy businessmen appointments?”

“Aren’t you working at the bar this Friday?”

“I can take a night off. Wally is always reminding me I have free nights piled up.” Dick squeezes his hand. “What do you say?”

Conner twists his hand around. He returns the gentle squeeze. “Can’t think of a better way to spend my Friday night.”

 

* * *

 

Dick’s shocked silence is starting to make him uncomfortable. It’s gone on for more than what most would consider polite, and Dick isn't being the slightest bit subtle.

Conner shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He stares down at his powder blue dress shirt and nicely pressed jeans, his polished black shoes. “What?” he asks.

“Not that I would ever complain about being seen with such a handsome and pristine Boy Scout – trust me, they’re tough to come by – but Conner, your attire isn’t exactly appropriate for what we’re doing.”

“What _are_ we doing?” Conner asks. Dick had called on Wednesday to give him a time and meeting place for Friday. Dick hadn’t mentioned clothing at any point, and Conner had dress as date night-like with what he’d brought in his small suitcase.

Which is why he doesn't understand why Dick is bringing it up now. Or why Dick didn’t give him the details about their outing before.

Dick shakes his head, then takes off his leather jacket. Conner reaches out to hold it, but Dick throws it over the hood of Conner’s rental car before he can take it.

“I guess the jeans and shoes will have to do, though we need to at least change your shirt. Here, let’s switch. He’s going to give you enough crap as it is,” Dick says, pulling his excessively oversized t-shirt over his head.

Conner’s eyes widen. He turns his head, cheeks a dusty red, reaches for the buttons of his own shirt. He takes it off, careful not to wrinkle it. He hands it to Dick when he holds out the black t-shirt. He sighs when Dick isn't as careful putting it on. He tries not to flinch when the sleeves are messily rolled back.

“Hurry up, CK,” Dick prompts.

Conner puts on the t-shirt. He wrinkles his nose almost immediately. The fabric is stretchy and soft, but it still feels too small. It… it fits. Sort of. He tries to raise his arms above his head. The shit rides up to his bellybutton. He flexes his arms. Not a lot of movement available.

“It might be a tad too small,” he points out.

Dick stares at him for a few seconds. “I think it looks perfect. Who knew new and pressed jeans would go so well with such an old shirt.”

“Why are you wearing a shirt three sizes too big anyway?”

Dick shrugs. “I like loose clothing.”

Conner waits for more. Dick only smooths down his newly acquired dress shirt. He slides his jacket back on, smiles at him over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Conner opens the passenger door, closes it after Dick takes a seat. He heads to the passenger side. He’s driving down the highway a few minutes later.

“I take it we’re not catching a late lunch?” he guesses.

“Nope. We’re doing something fun.”

“That you won't tell me about, not even now.”

Dick tilts his head to one side and smiles. “Just get us to where we need to go.”

Conner shrugs. He keeps on driving, turns when Dick tells him to turn, takes the lane Dick tells him to take. After turning streets three times they reach a less depressing, more suburban side of Gotham. Conner actually sees gardens and cookie-cutter houses. He even sees a bit of sun through the clouds.

“We’re here,” Dick says.

Conner focuses on the houses in front of him. It’s easy to figure out where ‘here’ is.

He stops the car in front of the bikes neatly lined up on a driveway. The garage door is open, and he catches glimpses of other vehicles and tons of tools inside.

Dick squeezes his shoulder, then walks past him. Two men in coveralls emerge from the garage. A redhead waves at Dick with his whole arm before settling to work on one of the bikes outside. The other man, tall, with black hair and a particular white lock at the front, heads straight for Dick… and traps him in a headlock right away.

Conner feels a surge of panic. Then he feels confused. He’s pondering whether he should step in or not when Dick shoves the man back, laughing.

The man lets him go, grinning. “Right on time, Dickie.”

“I told you we’d make it.” Dick pulls Conner closer, gestures between the two of them. “Jay, this is CK. CK, this is my brother Jason Todd.”

Jason raises both eyebrows, holds out a hand. “No actual name? Just CK?”

“Conner Kent,” Conner says. They shake on it. “Dick hadn’t told me he had a brother, or that we were coming to see you, but it’s really nice to meet you.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Can't say I'm surprised. Dickie’s pretty good at being sneaky when he puts his mind to it. Still, I hope this doesn't ruin the surprise. He was very clear about having everything ready for his new _friend_.”

Dick groans, slams the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Don’t start, Jay.”

“Start what?” Jason says, batting his eyelashes.

Dick groans again. “Never mind. I'll go get the helmets.”

Jason nods, and Dick heads into the garage, stopping to talk with the redhead on the way.

Conner clears his throat and speaks to Jason. “Dick and I aren’t dating,” he says.

“Right.”

“We met only a week ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We barely know each other.”

Jason raises his hands as if surrendering. “Hey, I’m not judging or forming an opinion, not about you and Dick. That’s none of my business.” He brings one hand down, props it against his hip. “I am forming an opinion on you, though. Dick said you like to ride.”

Conner nods. “Yeah, I just haven’t had a lot of opportunities to do it in the last couple of years.”

“But your girl is still up and running?”

He thinks back to the shed, the two motorbikes behind the locked doors. “I’m not sure. I’d have to give her a checkup before taking her on the road again.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Dick didn’t tell me where you’re from, but if it’s not too far away feel free to come over any time. Roy and I are always glad to help out with new toys.”

Conner blinks. He flounders for words. All that comes out is a stiff, “Thank you.”

Jason smirks. Dick comes back with the helmets, hands one to Conner and gives Jason a suspicious look. “Which one are you letting us borrow?”

Jason beckons for the two of them to follow him. He walks them to the last bike on the driveway, a red sports bike.

“Nice pick,” Dick says.

“Like you gave me a choice,” Jason retorts. He pulls the keys from his coveralls, dangles the set between them.

Conner looks at Dick, who smiles. “I know how to drive, but I can´t do fancy tricks or look cool while doing it, and I’m not the one who loves doing it. Also, it’ll be easier to show you around if I have my hands free to point out in every other direction.”

Jason mutters something about the tour of _not_ a lifetime and Conner learning to shut out most of Dick’s words in record time. It makes Conner hide a chuckle behind his fist as he takes the keys with his other hand and slings a leg over the bike.

“I’ll take good care of them,” Conner tells Jason.

Jason nods. “You better, Kent. I want them both home before midnight, not a scratch on either of them.”

“Oh my gosh, of course you choose this very moment to pull the protective brother card,” Dick mutters, hanging his head before settling on the bike behind Conner.

Jason pats Dick on the head, Conner on one shoulder. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

Conner kicks the engine to life and speeds away before Dick has a chance to reply… or refute the choice of words.

 

* * *

 

The sounds of the surrounding vehicles, the thrill of kneading through the busy highways, rushing down the empty roads and watching the word blur around him are all things Conner didn’t know he missed so much until now.

He’s missed this sensation of utter freedom, the adrenaline burst that relaxes him and actually makes him feel alive, the speed, seeing just how quickly he can make the world around him move. It’s energizing, exhilarating, and the whole experience is made even better with Dick riding behind him.

Back at home he always drove alone. No one at home was interested in riding with him on the bike. Besides, he had his truck, which was much more comfortable to carry people or boxes in.

He’s glad Dick is the first person he gets to ride with. His enthusiasm and encouragement are heavily appreciated. His laugh, his arms tightening around Conner’s waists, his cheerful tone in which he gives Conner directions to discover Gotham are as invigorating as the speed itself.

Dick guides him through a big part of Gotham that afternoon. From one end to nearly the other, Conner gets a chance to feel alive once more. He also gets to visit and see parts of Gotham from Dick’s perspective.

As expected, Dick doesn't see the city through Conner’s grey-colored lenses.

Between breaks, Dick gives him what Conner guesses isn't the most common tour. They start with a beautiful flower garden in front of a Gothic church, followed by a brief visit to a small museum mostly filled with ancient weapons. The third stop is Gotham´s central park, and that’s the place they actually take their time to walk through. The tour is just an excuse, Dick tells him as they watch several families gather around the big fountain in the center, the real reason for hanging out that afternoon is so Conner can have fun.

“I think it’s fun to look around this city,” Conner offers, and he really does. The garden had been wonderful, picturesque, and Dick had insisted on getting at least one pic of the two of them there. The museum had been interesting. Dick seemed to know what he was talking about as he pointed out to several swords and daggers hung on the wall. The park is also fun. It’s relaxing to stroll along the wide paths and walls of green around them.

“As fun as riding down the empty highways, taking the turns not so slowly and hearing the roar of the engine?”

Oh. “Not quite like that,” Conner admits.

Dick gives him a reassuring smile. “Hey, no need to pretend or lie. As I said, I planned this out mostly so you could get your hands on a motorcycle. I also wanted to show you around, but it was not my priority today. If you want a real and more traditional tour, text me, and we’ll do it on foot.” He salutes Conner as he says the last.

Conner makes a mental note to shoot out a message as soon as the night is over. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I love talking about this place.”

“No, not about the tour.” He frowns. “I mean. Thank you. For this tour, the one you’re offering and for making this whole afternoon possible. I needed this.”

Dick gives a rather happy sigh. “My pleasure,” he repeats. “How about one more stop before we head back to Jason’s shop? It’s getting dark, and there's a lights show I think you should see.”

Conner nods, fishes the key out of his pocket. “I’d love to.”

They walk back to their parking spot. Conner gets on the bike, waits until Dick settles his weight and wraps his arms around his waist before they pull out.

Helmets on the handlebars, Conner takes it slow as they head south of Gotham. The sky is burning, there are splashes of yellow and orange behind the clouds. The colors darken quite fast, and by the time Dick tells him to pull over, the sky is tainted with purple and blue glimmers.

Conner parks the bike on one side of a bridge. Not many cars pass by, but the area is well lit. Dick climbs off the bike, leans over the edge of the bridge. Conner stays where he is. They are close enough that he can see the dark Gotham landscape in the distance without getting down.

“It should only be a couple more minutes,” Dick says, keeping his eyes on the tiny buildings on the distance. Conner faces the same way, and he waits. Mere seconds tick by before the flashes of light pop up.

The city comes to life before his eyes  Red, yellow, white, even blue. The lights start appearing, forming odd patterns that make no sense by the time the whole city has lit up. It’s messy, yet strangely peaceful, beautiful. He focuses a bit more, catches the general buzz of noise coming from the city itself. It’s like the city has come to life in a much more appealing way that it was before.

“Huh,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Gotham look appealing now.”

Dick raises both eyebrows at him. “It wasn’t appealing to you before?”

“Not like this. I don't know, the city just seems more alive than before. It feels… different. Alluring.”

“Well, Gotham is better known for its nocturnal tourism,” Dick comments. He walks back to the bike, seems to hesitate for a second, then takes another step forward. “Scoot back.”

Conner does as he’s told, first making sure the bike isn't going to topple over. As soon as the space up front, Dick hops onto the bike, facing him. He wiggles around until he’s comfortable against the handlebars. He offers him a small smile. “If you’d rather we make it a night tour, or an all-day tour, we could visit a lot more places,” he says.

Conner leans back, lays his hands farther down the seat. “I’m not much for nightly activities.”

“There’s more to Gotham than clubs, bars, strip clubs, underground wrestling matches, street dance competitions and overpriced coffee shops.”

“… I wouldn’t have thought underground wrestling matches and street dance competitions were a thing.”

Dick bursts out laughing. He shrugs one shoulder. “And there’s a lot more from where that came from.”  His expression softens. His eyes fill up with a warmth Conner knows too well. It’s the warmth he associates with home.

“How long have you lived here?” he asks.

Dick takes a couple of seconds to blink and process the question. When he seems focused again, he nods. “Since I was nine, so most of my life. I lived in Chicago before that.”

“What brought you to Gotham?”

A shadow flickers across Dick’s face. It disappears as fast as it comes. “Getting adopted,” he finally says. “My adoptive father lives here, so it was easier to bring and raise me here instead of him moving to Chicago.”

“Did you…?” Conner purses his lips.

“Did Jason and I come to Gotham together?” Dick guesses. “No. My… father brought him to us a couple of years later after I was adopted.”

“No mom?”

Dick shakes his head. “It’s only been my dad and… my grandfather, from me to my littlest brother.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Three brothers, one sister, all younger than me. Damian is about to turn thirteen this year.”

“Do you get to see him often?”

“Not since I moved out.”

“How come?”

Dick’s face clouds over. He digs his teeth into his lower lip. “Tim, Cass and Damian still live with my father. Tim is busy with my father’s company, Cass and Damian have a lot of extracurricular activities, and it’s not like I have a ton of free time either. The best time and place to visit them would be at the house, but visiting the house is…” his voice trails off.

“Complicated,” Conner finishes.

“Complicated. Tense. Unpleasant,” Dick agrees. “I have no problem with any of them, of course. My father and I don't always see eye to eye, and we haven’t really talked to each other for years now.”

Conner straightens. “Why?”

Dick hesitates. His hands ball into fists, then he takes a deep breath. “Like your brother, my dad is a businessman. He expected me to take over his business as soon as I was eighteen, maybe before… things didn’t go as planned.”

“You’re not much of a businessman yourself?”

“No, I'm not. I always loved numbers back in elementary, middle and high school. I was a mathlete, took advanced math and algebra classes, the whole package, so it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do was to use those skills and that passion for good. I went straight into college to get a business bachelor with an accounting concentration. It was the right thing to do, right?” Dick rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t the right thing, not for me. I’d never been interested in what he or his company did. Being his heir always felt like a sword hanging over my head, and it took more courage that I’ve ever possessed to face him, leave university and pursue a career I wanted. As you might guess, he didn’t take it well.”

Conner winces. He searches for something, anything, to say. Nothing good or slightly comforting comes to mind. Why must he be so awkward all the time?

“It’s always good to pursue what you want,” he says. It’s a lame thing to respond. He knows it.

Dick doesn't seem bothered by his answer. He taps his fingers against his chin looking thoughtful. “I don't regret it. I love working at the bar, working for Luthor isn't bad, and I’m doing my best to save up to open my own business, one related to what I actually love and wanted to do since I was like ten.”

“And what do you want to do?”

“I took ballet, contemporary dance and gymnastics from childhood to my late teens, dreamt of getting a position on a troupe and going on tours. Nowadays I don't keep the same rhythm because of my jobs, and my goals have somewhat changed. One thing is for sure. I will open my studio soon and go back to what I really love.”

Conner can’t help but give him a lopsided smile. “A dancer and an acrobat. For some reason I’m not surprised, I guess you do strike me as the artistic type.”

“It’s in my blood,” Dick says. He tries to hold back a snort, ends up muffling it against the back of his palm.

“What?” Conner asks.

“I’m… reminiscing.”

“About you and your dad?”

Dick wrinkles his nose, body sagging even more against the handlebars and the front of the bike. Conner doesn't understand how he can be comfortable. “Yeah. It’s ironic, you know? He was such a good sport through it all. He never lost it on things I had thought he’d explode with, but the one thing you could say was the least dangerous … that’s where he lost it. Maybe because it was the only thing he wanted of me.”

Once more, Conner finds himself at a loss for words. He hesitates, unsure of what to do given he can't speak. After debating for a little while, he scoots a bit forward and places a hand on Dick’s shoulder, the other on top of Dick’s hand where they rest on the cool metal.

“It’s all right,” he says gently. It’s all he has to offer.

Dick lets his head fall to one side, the in which Conner’s hand rests. “Yeah, it is,” Dick agrees. “But I still feel a little guilty about it. The first time he found me in a dress was when I came back from my freshman homecoming party. My girlfriend at the time –I think if we make it back to Jason’s in time you’ll get to meet her– lent me one of her dresses and helped me with makeup. No one recognized me at school. I came home with her that night, planning to dash up to my room and change into something before morning. He was waiting up.” A nostalgic smile curves Dick’s lips. “He gave me a look, greeted my girlfriend and wished me a good night. The next morning his girlfriend at the time came over and asked me if I’d like to go get some new clothes with her help. He never judged, not when I started crossdressing and not when he found out I dated Wally during my first year of university.”

“That’s awesome to hear.”

Dick nods. “It is. He’s been a good father, if awkward at times, and that’s what makes it ironic. Out of all the things we could have fought over, it was… business the thing that broke us up.”

“So you don't talk to him? At all?”

“No, no. We talk. We can be in the same room, but there’s a lot still left unsaid and apologies to be given on both sides. It makes the situation terribly awkward and tense for my siblings and for the both of us. He’s not a great conversationalist, and sometimes I get tired of trying. The same goes for Jason, almost word for word. My dad hoped he’d be the heir since I didn’t want to, but Jason also chose his own path, as you saw. You can say he has a harder time talking to our dad than I do.”

Conner squeezes his shoulder. His brow furrows. “But you said you don't regret it.”

“I don't.”

“You think Jason does?”

“No. He always knew what he wanted, and he didn’t hesitate to leave behind the business aspect. Me? I’m glad I made my choices, and I live by them, but it’s still hard.”

“I can imagine.” Conner squeezes Dick’s hand this time, then pulls back. He stays quiet, tries to form a coherent and reassuring sentence in his head. Eventually he manages to say, “If you have plans… to visit your family… and I'm still in town and Jason can't come, I can… if you want some company I would like to—”

Dick cuts him off by pressing his lips against his cheek, his short laugh a puff of warm air that makes Conner shiver.

“I’ll consider it. Thanks, CK,” Dick says.

Conner merely nods.

Dick hops off the bike, fishes his phone out of his jacket. “Do you feel like heading back already? We can drop the bike off and go get some dinner, or we can crash Friday movie night at the garage.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Of course it is! All we need to do is buy some snacks on our way back. You’ll love movie night, it’s as messy and normal as you’d expect.”

Conner smiles. “Sure, it sounds nice.”

They get back on the road and head to the closest supermarket. After purchasing some packages of nachos and cookies, they make their way back to Jason’s house.

The driveway is empty as they mark. Dick waits until Conner is satisfied with the bike’s resting position, then heads for the door, knocks once. Jason opens the door, coveralls gone, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans that could rival Dick’s when it came to how old they looked.

“Hey,” Jason greets. He eyes the bags of food. “I take it I shouldn’t bring the rental car’s keys just yet?”

Dick smiles at Conner, then looks at Jason. “I told him you wouldn’t mind having two more people over tonight.”

Jason throws the door open, walks back inside. “We could use the extra food. Come on in.”

Conner hesitates on the doorway. Dick doesn't miss a beat. He offers his hand.

“We can leave if you don't like this place,” he assures him. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, then Conner relaxes, laces his fingers with Dick’s.

“Noted,” he says.

His night ends in a rather entertaining way. There are four people besides Jason inside the house, and Conner gets introduced to them all in rapid succession. He gets to meet the girlfriend Dick talked about: a beautiful and tall redhead named Kory. He gets formally introduced to the redhead he’d seen earlier and Jason’s best friend: Roy. Lastly, he meets Jason’s roommates, another redhead as beautiful and menacing as Kory named Artemis and enthusiastic, gentle Biz.

As soon as he’s done the rounds and he and Dick settle on the loveseat –which he notices everyone else made sure to steer clear of– the questions and teasing begin, Roy and Jason leading the attack. It dwindles as the action movie hits its climax, and by the time the first movie ends and Roy has gone off to get more snacks, the conversation has grown quiet and amicable.

Conner finds himself being amused at their hosts’ antics from time to time. He listens for the longer part of the night, whispers with Dick to not bother the rest, even ends up doing the whole ‘sling an arm over the back of the chair’ cliché. Dick shoots him a knowing look, leans against his side.

“Having fun?” Dick asks. He takes a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Conner’s lap.

Yes. For the first time in years he is having fun. For the first time in years, he feels alive and like he has something to share if anyone asks about his day.

“A bit,” he replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I pretty much make Dick a dancer in all my stuff ;A; sorry if it's getting boring, it's just my most solid headcanon for him XD  
> Also, I wanted to see Dick in heels too, Kon  
> Also also XD thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I did do my research on Lunar New Year, so hopefully I didn´t screw that up ;A;  
> [This](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DyUAPSEVAAAWwRS.jpg) is Dick´s outfit and the picture that inspired this whole thing LOL
> 
> And funny story. Literally twenty minutes ago I was pleased with how this came out. Now I´m posting this before the million questions and doubts get the better of me XD


End file.
